Call and Answer
by justicemuffins
Summary: Really, Jemma had only intended to call and apologize. (Jemma/Jasper)
1. It's Too Late (at Night) to Apologize

Jemma Simmons hesitates uncertainly at the door. She raises her hand to knock, only to pause and draw it back hurriedly, shifting from foot to foot. She repeats the process several times, scolding herself each time for her cowardice. It's not as though it's something she needs to be embarrassed about, after all. It's a perfectly legitimate question with entirely innocent intentions. In fact, it's the _right_ thing to do, not just the polite one, so really she's just being silly by blowing this all out of proportion, isn't she?

Sucking in a deep breath, she reaches up and knocks sharply before she has the chance to second-guess herself. There's a call for entry from the other side and she pushes the door open quickly, like ripping off a bandage, shutting it behind her just as hurriedly, as though she could somehow shut the door quick enough so that her silly anxieties couldn't follow her inside.

Phil looks up from whatever he'd been reading—files of some sort, it seems—and smiles, looking entirely unsurprised to find her in his office.

"Finally decided I wasn't so scary after all?" he quips.

"I… what? Sir?" Jemma blurts.

"I could hear you talking to yourself outside the door," he explains.

"Oh," she says, lowering her eyes guiltily. She looks up suddenly. "Oh, it's not that I'm afraid of you or anything, sir. Really, you're very easy to talk to. You're not intimidating at all. Honestly."

"Not even a little?" he asks, looking highly disappointed.

Jemma opens her mouth and closes it, not quite sure what to say. She lets out a relieved sigh when he chuckles and shakes his head at her.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist pulling your leg a little," Phil informs her. He leans forward in his seat and gestures for her to take a seat before he folds his hands over his desk. "Now, what did you want to see me about?"

Jemma slowly slips into the proffered seat, her posture ramrod straight as she scoots to the very edge of it.

"Well, sir, it's about what happened at the Hub," she begins.

"I assume you're referring to the incident with Agent Sitwell?" he asks.

"That would be the one," she replies, wincing.

She's surprised when she gets a sympathetic look in return. "Well, given the situation, I think he'd understand. We've all made questionable decisions at one time or another in our lives. You were doing something to aid your teammates; I don't think anyone can really fault you for that, even if your method was… a bit unconventional."

"Thank you for saying so. And that's actually the reason I'm here," Jemma says, leaning forward in her seat. "I know that Agent Sitwell was brought to the infirmary and I suppose I just wished to apologize to him personally."

"Understandable," Phil says with a nod of his head. He reaches for a pen and a stack of sticky notes and begins writing as he speaks. "You should know that Jasper has a bad track record with being drugged. So being admitted to the infirmary is more because he tends not to handle them well and less because of your actions in particular. He seemed perfectly fine when I visited him, but I'm sure hearing from you wouldn't hurt."

"You… visited him?" Jemma prompts.

Phil pulls off the top sticky note and reaches across the desk to hand it to her. "I was Jasper's S.O. when he first joined S.H.I.E.L.D.; he's an old friend."

"I see," Jemma says, taking the note and wondering what it says about her that she shot her team leader's old friend in the chest. She looks down at the note. "This is a number."

"That's his personal," Phil says. "You're more likely to catch him with that one."

"I don't suppose you'd have his email address instead?" Jemma fishes uncertainly.

"You really want to send an apology via email?" Phil asks, not unkindly.

"No, I suppose not," Jemma admits.

It seems to her that he takes pity on her then because he leans forward in his seat, the look in his eyes telling her that he's going Papa Bear on her. Skye had been the first one to refer to Melinda and Phil as mom and dad, but it had stuck. Because they really are rather parental, aren't they? In any case, she's grown used to Phil watching out for all of them in much the same way a father would and his treatment of her now is therefore unsurprising.

"I apologized to Jasper myself and I can assure you there are no hard feelings," he informs her. "You don't really have to apologize to him if you don't want to."

"No, sir, I do," she says resolutely, his words only serving to make her surer of herself on the matter. "It's the right thing to do. And it's the professional thing to do. If we're to work with Agent Sitwell again in the future, I want to be sure that this incident isn't hanging over either of us."

Maybe it's just the light, but she swears she sees a proud twinkle in his eye as he smiles at her.

"Alright. Well, you have his number," he says, gesturing to the note in her hand.

"Yes. Thank you, sir," she says.

She sits and waits for him to say something else. There's a pregnant pause before he raises his eyebrows at her.

"Something else you needed?" he questions.

"Oh. No. I was just… I'm sorry, I have a difficult time understanding when you've dismissed me," Jemma says as she nearly jumps from her seat. "Well then, ehm… sleep well?"

"Thank you," Phil says with a nod. "Goodnight, Jemma."

"Goodnight, sir," she answers with a small smile.

As she slips out of his office, she's fairly certain that he isn't going to be doing anything remotely resembling sleeping for some time despite the lateness of the hour. If she were in a position to do so, she might have heckled him a little more into doing so, but she's certain Mama Bear will give him a properly stern glare come morning.

So she returns to her bunk, stopping to check on Leo and pleased to see him fast asleep with his face mashed in his pillow. It had been a terrifying ordeal for all of them, knowing he and Grant were out there without an extraction prepared, but everyone is back safe and sound, tucked in for the night, and so she tries to let her worries end there. Except she has this slip of paper in her hand with a number that she really should call.

An hour later, Jemma is sitting in bed in her pajamas, still fiddling with the slip of paper Phil had handed her. It's not that hard, is it? It's just a phone call. And it doesn't even have to be a particularly long one; just hello, this is Agent Simmons, I'm sorry I shot you in the chest and dragged your unconscious body to the corner of a restricted hallway, I look forward to working with you in the future, goodnight.

That's not hard at all.

And yet she continues to hesitate. In all likelihood, he's not even awake at this hour. Although, the more she thinks about it… the more she thinks that may work in her favor. She could call and just leave a voicemail. That way, if he felt like it, he could return her call and perhaps they could have a conversation that didn't have such an uncomfortable subject matter. This way, he would see she'd made an honest attempt to contact him directly and, as he was asleep, had left a polite voicemail instead. He's not likely to answer his personal number at this hour, is he? No, not at all.

Confident in her new plan of action, she retrieves her phone and dials the number that had been given to her. She waits patiently as the phone rings once, twice, three times. As the voicemail greeting begins to play, she breaths out a sigh of relief. Her plan is going perfectly.

_"Sitwell."_

Jemma freezes as the recording is cut off by a groggy greeting. No, no, no, he wasn't supposed to pick up. This is _not_ how the plan was supposed to go.

_"Hullo?"_

She hangs up.

She hangs up and tosses her phone to the edge of her bed. So much for leaving a voicemail. So much for escaping with so much as a shred of her dignity intact. At the very least he won't have known it was her, right? As her phone begins to ring, the likelihood of that possibility is waning. Biting on her lower lip, she contemplates just letting it ring through, but thinking back on her conversation with Phil, she knows she has to take responsibility. So, taking a deep breath, Jemma grabs her phone and answers the call.

"Hello?" she says, hoping against hope that she can get away with a 'wrong number' excuse.

_"Good morning, Agent Simmons."_

Well, no chance of that, then. She tries not to wince.

"Ah, yes. Good morning, Agent Sitwell," she says, clearing her throat.

_"Is there any particular reason why you're calling me at—"_ There is a pause where she imagines he must be squinting at the clock. _"—quarter of four in the morning?"_

"I'm terribly sorry, I really am, I was just going to leave a voicemail," she explains . "I didn't mean to wake you."

_"I've woken to worse things."_

Jemma can't help her nervous twitter of laughter, but can't say anything in return. What _could_ she say to that?

_"So, are you gonna tell me what was so urgent that you had to leave me a voicemail at this hour?"_ he asks her, his voice still heavy with sleep.

"Right. That," Jemma says. "Well… I was just… What I mean is, I had been feeling…"

She stops herself, takes a deep breath and lets it out. It's not that hard. It doesn't have to be that hard.

"I wanted to apologize," she says.

_"Mm. You do know that Phil already took care of that for you, right?"_ Jasper asks.

"Yes, he did mention that," Jemma says. "But I'm afraid I don't feel comfortable with allowing someone to make an apology that I should be making myself. Whether it's standard procedure or not, I don't care to let my superior take responsibility for my actions."

_"That's good to know,"_ Jasper says. _"And apology accepted."_

"Really? Just like that?" Jemma queries uncertainly.

_"Just like that,"_ Jasper hums.

"Well then. That was easier than I'd anticipated," Jemma states. She tugs on the hem of her shirt. "But I really am very sorry. That sort of behavior isn't something I make a habit of, it's just…"

_"You were looking out for your team. I get it,"_ Jasper says. _"Water under the bridge."_

"You're alright, then? No adverse side effects?" Jemma probes.

_"Still a bit drowsy, but I've been told I'll just sleep it off,"_ Jasper informs her. _"For such a ridiculous name, that thing sure packs a punch."_

Jemma snorts. "Well, at least I'm not the only one who thinks it's ridiculous."

There's a short span of silence before she hears a yawn on the other end of the line and she remembers that she'd woken him for this conversation. Put on top of any lingering effects from the Night Night Pistol, she's sure he'd probably prefer to go back to sleep than to listen to her go on.

"I'm sorry, I'm keeping you awake," she notes.

_"Like I said, I've woken to worse things,"_ Jasper answers with a sleepy laugh that borders on giggling. _"'Sides, what are you doing awake?"_

"Well, I…" Jemma says, trailing off. Her tone drops considerably in volume as she fiddles with a loose thread on her pajama sleeve. "I suppose I was just a bit worried, is all."

_"I appreciate the concern,"_ Jasper says, his tone warm. _"But seeing as I'm fine, do you think maybe we could both go to sleep?"_

"I believe so," Jemma answers. "But one more thing."

She hears an assenting hum, prompting her to continue.

"I still feel very badly over the whole thing and I was wondering if I could make it up to you," Jemma says in a rush, certain that if she doesn't, it won't be said at all. "Perhaps the next time we're at the Hub I could… take you to lunch?"

_"On one condition."_

"Yes?"

_"I'm pretty sure I asked you to call me Jasper. So you should call me Jasper."_

"Yes, you did say that, didn't you?" Jemma asks, feeling a flush creep up on her cheeks. "I suppose I can agree to those terms."

_"Glad to hear it. And I'd be glad to hear from you again,"_ Jasper tells her.

"Perhaps at a more reasonable hour," Jemma teases.

_"That might be nice,"_ Jasper answers. She hears another yawn. _"Speaking of which, as much as I'd like to continue this conversation, consciousness isn't working in my favor so I'm gonna have to throw in the towel here."_

"Of course," Jemma says, nodding her head in understanding despite the fact that he can't see it. "We can… we can continue another time?"

_"If you call, I'll answer."_

She finds herself smiling. "Goodnight then, Agent, ah… I mean, goodnight, Jasper."

_"Goodnight, Agent Simmons."_

It's only after they've both hung up and she places her phone on the nightstand that she considers how that conversation had gone. She'd intended to leave an apologetic voicemail and had wound up effectively asking a superior officer out to a lunch date. Not the plan she'd laid out, but she can't say she's disappointed in the turn of events.

Perhaps next time she should ask him to call her Jemma.


	2. Don't Wake Leo

Jemma had already fielded one difficult phone call today—although, in many ways, speaking to Mum and Dad had been a weight off her shoulders—so she really wasn't expecting another so shortly after. Well, to be fair, when _Mr. Agent Sitwell Sir_ (Skye had insisted that no other contact name would be acceptable) flashed across her screen, she couldn't help but smile a little. This phone call wasn't difficult in the same way the one with her parents had been, it's simply that between her hurried, late-night apology call and now, they haven't spoken. She'd been tempted to call the next morning to see if he actually remembered any of it, but had thought better and held off.

Now she finds her phone buzzing insistently just as she had been preparing to go to bed. Glancing over at Leo's sleeping form in twin bed he'd claimed in their shared hotel room, she decides that he really is quite asleep and answers the call.

"Give me a moment to get to the balcony," she says quietly into the receiver.

_"This a bad time?"_

"No. No, no, no, now is a perfect time," she whispers insistently, tiptoeing past her fellow scientist. "Just give me a moment…"

Very carefully, she unlocks the sliding glass door and nudges it open just enough to slip through before sliding it shut behind her, all without disturbing her roommate. Thankfully the awning overhead has kept the balcony dry as the rain had set on, so she can now comfortably tuck herself into one of the chairs there, curling her toes over its edge as she watches the city down below.

"Sorry," Jemma says, breathing out a sigh of relief as she permits herself to speak at a conversational volume. "Didn't want to wake Fitz."

There's a pause on the other end of the line following this announcement. _"If I misunderstood our last conversation, we could always just blame it on the drugs."_

"What?" she says, confused. But her brain catches up to her mouth rather quickly and the meaning of his words becomes clear, bringing up a healthy flush to her cheeks. "Oh, no, no, it's not like that between me and Fitz. Really, he's like the brother I never had. Although I can't really say that, as I've got actual brothers, it's really more that whole 'You can't pick your family' sort of thing. Not that I would ever pick anyone besides the brothers I have, it's just that I could have done with a little less chewing gum in my hair and a little more understanding when I brought up anything even _remotely_ scientific."

She clamps her mouth shut suddenly. God, here she's been rambling on like a loon again when all he'd done was say one thing. She hears a chuckle from the other end of the line.

_"Why the sudden silent treatment?"_ he asks.

"I was just thinking I was rambling a bit," Jemma admits.

_"That's okay. I like it when you ramble,"_ Jasper assures her.

"Really? You're not just saying that? Most people find it a bit much," Jemma says.

_"When you 'ramble' you speak quickly because you're saying things you think no one will be interested in hearing, which, from what I'm gathering, you probably picked up from having brothers who couldn't keep up with what you were talking about and therefore just talked over you. So you had to adapt to get a word in,"_ Jasper says. _"So when I say I like it when you ramble, I like it when you talk. Don't go assuming people don't want to hear what you have to say."_

Jemma finds herself a little astounded at his deduction and, on top of that, a little touched. So maybe she's got a few issues with self-confidence that need addressing, sure, but who doesn't? But it's nice, for once, to have someone other than Fitz who's patient enough to actually _listen_ to what she's saying. Someone who _wants_ to hear all these things she thinks are inane and stupid and better off unsaid.

"Thank you," she says, smiling despite knowing he can't see it. "That's actually quite accurate."

_"See? I'm good for something."_

She laughs at that. "I'm sure you're good for a great deal of things. Agent Coulson told me that he was your SO when you first joined. He seems fond of you."

_"Phil and I have a lot of history,"_ Jasper says. _"And I should hope he's fond of me. I've saved his ass enough times to earn a little fondness."_

"Oh really?" Jemma intones, making a soft, interested noise.

_"Don't get the wrong idea, it's a mutual arrangement, but he's got a talent for getting himself into sticky situations. But I guess when you've got the devil's luck when it comes to getting out of them, you don't worry about that as much,"_ Jasper notes idly. _"Speaking of sticky situations, I heard you were involved in one of an Asgardian nature."_

"The good old S.H.I.E.L.D grapevine hard at work, I see," Jemma quips.

_"Like you expected anything else,"_ Jasper comments. _"Everything okay over there?"_

Jemma sighs, hugging herself a little tighter in her oversized sweater. "For the most part, yes. Everyone's in fairly good shape, considering what's gone on. Honestly, I'm a tad worried about lingering effects from the Berserker Staff; both Ward and May handled it and Ward already demonstrated how the effects don't wear off simply because contact has ceased."

_"Ward seemed to get himself under control, from what I've gathered,"_ Jasper replies.

"Yes, that's true," Jemma says. "I suppose I'm just overly concerned. It's just that Professor Randolph had told us that touching the staff would bring about the wielder's worst memories… seeing how shaken both of them were after, I can't even begin to imagine what they'd seen."

_"They've seen some terrible things, both before and during their time with S.H.I.E.L.D., but in this case I think it's probably better to not think too hard about it,"_ Jasper tells her. _"Just keep an eye on them, make yourself available if they need to talk—but I doubt they will. It's all you can do. And if your gut tells you something, take it to Phil."_

"I suppose you're right," Jemma says. She toys with the hem of her sweater. "How have things been at the Hub?"

_"Running like clockwork, as usual. Why the sudden change in topic?"_ he asks.

"Well, we've been talking about me and how my day's gone all this time and I'd like it if you talked a little about yourself, too," she tells him.

_"Well,"_ Jasper says, sighing noticeably. _"It's been a long week. And the idea of hearing the sound of your voice for a little seemed like the right prescription for that."_

Jemma's thankful he can't see her blushing. Because she is. Quite ferociously at that. Apparently he takes her answering silence the wrong way.

_"Does that bother you?"_

He says it in a way that sounds like he'd drop the matter entirely if it did and that only serves to make the whole thing more endearing than it was to begin with.

"No, not at all," Jemma says, shaking her head. "It's quite nice, actually."

_"If I'm ever coming on too strong, you're in the clear to tell me to back the fuck up,"_ he declares.

She laughs at that, a little louder than she should, perhaps, and she claps a hand over her mouth as she gazes through the glass of the sliding door worriedly. Thankfully, Leo seems undisturbed by her mirth, but she makes a mental note not to wake the entire hotel.

"If I ever think you're coming on too strong, I'll be sure to let you know," Jemma agrees. "But I'm enjoying our conversations. I'm looking forward to having more of them. Perhaps you'll even tell me about one of the many times you've saved Agent Coulson's ass."

He laughs at her cheeky tone, a warm, deeply amused sound.

_"I'll make sure to have a good one prepared next time,"_ Jasper says. _"In the meantime, I'm probably keeping you awake at this point."_

"I don't mind," Jemma answers honestly.

Because yes, it's past midnight, but Jasper isn't the only one who's had a long few days. Jemma loves her team, is growing to love them more as they spend more time together, but talking to someone outside the team is refreshing. Talking about silly things, everyday things, is something she finds she needs. And Jasper is… well. He's Jasper. And maybe she likes hearing his voice as much as he likes hearing hers.

_"You don't, but I do. I'm gonna feel guilty if I keep you up all night,"_ Jasper tells her. _"Believe me, I'd love to keep you up all night, but I'll feel like an ass about it tomorrow if I do."_

"Alright. If only because I wouldn't want you to feel guilty," Jemma says, giving in. "Perhaps I could text you in the morning?"

_"I'll be sad if you don't."_

"Then a text you will get," she says brightly. She hesitates, biting her bottom lip as she mulls something over. What was it Phil had said, though? Sometimes you have to just jump right in and figure things out. Granted, this doesn't compare to sticking your hand into the gaping wound in an Asgardian's chest, but it's still something she has to work herself up to. "And Jasper?"

_"Yeah?"_

"I'd like it if you'd call me 'Jemma,' please," she states.

_"Jemma it is."_

"Goodnight, Jasper," she says.

_"Goodnight, Jemma,"_ he answers.

She disconnects from the call and slowly stretches her legs. Really, she thinks, her name shouldn't sound that good when he says it. But it does.

* * *

The team is looking a little haggard when they all gather in the lobby. From Grant and Melinda she had expected this—and her conversation from the night prior echoes in her mind. She'll be keeping an eye on them as they proceed to do what she's sure they'll do, which is to deny, deny, deny that anything at all is the matter and to cover up any traces of supposed weakness with brute strength and grit. But she knows how Melinda takes her tea and she knows that Grant likes his sandwiches cut from corner-to-corner and not side-to-side, and sometimes these small things can help. Small, familiar things can act as a balm even when they cannot fix the larger problem at hand.

She had expected this from them; she had not expected it from Phil. He smiles when she bids him good morning and offers the same. He puts on a good show of it, but when you look close enough you can read the exhaustion in his smile and the strain in his eyes, which crinkle fondly all the same. The night has not been kind to the three agents and she can't help but feel guilty for the pleasant conversation she'd enjoyed.

›_ Good morning. Sleep well?_

She sends the text as they climb into the company car. They'd taken two, since they all wouldn't fit in one and Phil had no intention of letting them anywhere near Lola. So Jemma rides back to the Bus with Phil and Skye while Leo rides back with Melinda and Grant.

›› _Like a baby. You?_

› _A full eight hours and no complaints. Wish I could say the same about everyone._

›› _Uh-oh. What happened?_

› _Well, I'd expected as much from AM and AW. But AC seems rather out of tune this morning as well._

›› _Hard mission. Maybe everyone needs a little downtime before you pick up another one._

› _I hope that's all it is._

›› _If you think it's bad, I will personally come and force feed them sleeping pills, no questions asked._

Jemma can't help it. She giggles. Phil glances at her from the driver's seat, eyebrow hiked up curiously, but doesn't ask. He knows well enough that people need their privacy and living together on the Bus means you should afford it to each other at every opportunity. Skye has no such qualms.

"Are you texting Mr. Agent Sitwell Sir?" she exclaims excitedly, leaning forward from the back seat.

Jemma clutches her phone to her breast. "I might be."

"Oh, come on, spill. Details," Skye urges.

"Skye, sit back and put your seatbelt on, please," Phil says, frowning in the rearview mirror.

"It's private," Jemma declares. "I never asked to see anything you texted to your secret boyfriend."

As soon as the words are out, Jemma wishes she could kick herself. Skye adopts the smuggest look imaginable, her grin nearly stretching from ear to ear. Jemma pretends not to notice the slight swerve in the car's steering following the announcement.

"That's not what I meant, he's not my boyfriend," she says hurriedly, certain her face has to be as red as Lola's paintjob by now.

"Oh yeah? Then let me see," Skye prompts.

"No."

"Come on."

"_No_."

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease."

"I've told you, it's private!"

"Daaaaaaaaaaaad," Skye mock-whines, "Simmons isn't sharing."

"If you two can't get along, I'll turn this car around," Phil declares. "Simmons, you can text Sitwell when we're back on the Bus. Skye, sit back and put your seatbelt on. And don't call me 'dad' it makes me sound old."

"Yeah, well—"

"Finish that sentence and you're grounded," Phil says, glancing warningly into the rearview mirror.

› _I'll have to text you later. Dad's put us on lock-down._

›› _Call him 'old man.' :)_

› _No! My God, I'll be killed._

Jemma catches Phil glaring sidelong at her and, giving him her best apologetic smile, she texts Jasper a quick 'ttyl' before hurriedly shoving her phone in her jacket pocket. Best not to tempt fate.


End file.
